A Danger Unknown
by Elwing L
Summary: King Thranduil is visited by a messenger who warns him of danger heading his way. To all those who have seen Never-ending Story, these gmorks are not the same. Elwing Lossëhelin and Dunëdän are both of my creation. First story. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Thranduil stood by the window in his study, deep in thought. Not even an hour had passed since he had gotten a report that more spider-webs had been found in the west part of Mirkwood, and that the party he had sent had lost two elves to their makers. The spiders were getting more daring by the day. He heard a knock at the door.

"Come in", he called. A servant walked in.

"There is a messenger waiting for you in your throne room, sire," the servant said.

" What does he want," Thranduil asked patiently. "She, sire," the servant replied. Thranduil turned to look at him.

"She," he asked. The servant nodded. "What does she want then," Thranduil asked again.

"She says she wants to speak to you," the servant replied. "and as soon as possible. She says that the matter is urgent."

* * *

The messenger in question was quite fidgety when Thranduil entered the throne room. She was short for an elf, only a mere five feet tall. Her intricately braided chocolate brown hair was moderately bleached throughout. She wore a royal blue riding cloak and black knee high riding boots. She had a bow and quiver strapped on her back and what looked to be a belt of throwing knives and a sword around her waist.

"What news have you brought," Thranduil politely asked, while taking in the sight of all her weapons.

"I wish to speak to you alone," she replied. Thranduil nodded in the direction of his servants and butler, who then left the room.

"That includes the guards too," she added. Thranduil gave her a confused look.

"I know well the speed that rumors can travel among a group of gossiping elves, sire," she said, ignoring the offended looks of Thranduil's guards. "And it is not my wish to harm you, sire. I am merely here to relay a message." Thranduil sighed in frustration.

"And how do I know that you will not harm me," he asked. She smiled and removed her weapons, laid them on the floor, and stepped back. A guard walked forward and picked them up.

"I would like them back before I go," she said, and looked at Thranduil, who reluctantly nodded in the direction of his guards, who then left.

"What is your message," asked Thranduil.

"I have come to warn you of a pack of gmorks that are coming towards Mirkwood." the messenger replied. Thranduil looked at her, confused.

"Gmorks? What are they," he asked.

"Giant wolves that are the size of that lovely elk that you have in your stables, if not bigger. In case you are wondering sire, your guards made me wait down there until you were ready to see me." Thranduil nodded in understanding.

"That is all," he asked.

"My queen is offering you her help. She will send men with specially trained horses to help you fight them." the messenger replied.

"Is she saying that I have an army that is not fit for battle," Thranduil asked angrily.

"No sire. She is merely offering you her help. There are too many gmorks for you and your men to fight alone sire." she replied, recoiling from his outburst.

"Well, you may tell your queen that I don't need her help. You may take your leave." The messenger turned towards the door.

"Wait," Thranduil murmured. "You said your queen would send men with horses. Where would they come from?" The messenger turned around to look at him.

"From our kingdom sire, Dunëdän." She replied.

"I'm unfamiliar with the name. Where is it, if I may ask?" Thranduil inquired.

"Our city is located on the banks of the Sea of Rhun. It is far, but on the backs of Dunëdänian horses, it won't take them long to get here sire." the messenger replied. Thranduil chuckled, and walked up the staircase to his throne.

"I've heard rumors that the water in the Sea of Rhun is known to drive people mad. I can see that it is already having an effect on your queen."

"THRANDUIL, I DID NOT COME HERE TO BE INSULTED!" Thranduil wheeled around find that the messenger had ripped off her cloak to reveal a royal blue knee length tunic embroidered with silver moon designs. A silver circlet of leaves rested upon her head, while her hair was now a waterfall of chocolate brown waves that, instead of being bleached by the sun, were now showing tints of red. She gave off an ethereal glow.

"Who are you," Thranduil asked furiously. The "messenger" chuckled.

"I'm surprised Thranduil. You just insulted me, yet you don't know who I am. And I've heard that the air in Mirkwood can cause a loss of memory, and _that_ I can agree on." Thranduil scowled.

"Allow me to introduce myself." the elleth began, bowing. "I am Elwing Lossëhelin, Elf-queen of Dunëdän, and leader of the Dunëdänian Cavalry. And insulting me is only going to get you closer to your grave, Thranduil." Elwing spat out the Elf-king's name as if she were an orc talking of elves.

"You said it was not your wish to harm me, and now you're saying that if I insult you you'll kill me?" Thranduil chuckled. " And what harm will come to me if I don't insult you?"

"I'm doing you a favor Thranduil!" Elwing yelled, as she began to walk toward the lord. "In Rhûn, when people even hear the word gmork, they hide in their homes and bar the doors. When the gmorks started attacking Dunëdän, I watched whole villages evacuate. Most people wouldn't even think of offering you help if they heard gmorks were heading your way. They would merely say "good riddance", and not even look in your city's direction! I'm doing you a favor!" By now, Elwing had reached the stairs that led to Thranduil's throne.

"Are these gmorks made of magic or of flesh and blood, and if they are the latter, can an elvish sword or spear end them?" Thranduil eagerly inquired.

"Thranduil," Elwing sighed, "you only think you can defeat them. These creatures are trained _to kill the first thing they see that is not one of their own kin_, _no matter what. _I've actually been considering killing you myself to save you the pain you will go through." Thranduil's eyes widened in horror. As Elwing started walking up the stairs, the monarch backed up until he walked into his throne. Elwing smiled.

"You're honestly afraid of me sire? You saw your guards take my weapons, and there is no possible way I could defeat you in hand-to-hand combat. Why are you afraid of me?" Elwing was now standing a few feet in front of the king, who dwarfed her in comparison.

"I've heard enough stories coming from Rhûn to understand your enemies fear." Thranduil muttered. "When you say, "the pain I will go through", do you mean torture?" Thranduil asked.

"Maybe," Elwing replied, as she started walking around Thranduil, who quickly moved out of her way.

"The ruler of the gmorks, Lord Tiden, is one who, on any given day, and especially after a bloody and victorious battle, would more than happily have you served to him on a silver plate as the center piece of a feast. And yes, I do mean to eat." Thranduil gasped, and staggered back to his throne, breathing heavily. Finally, he looked at Elwing, and asked, "Is what you say true?"

"Yes, sire. And when I said you, I literally meant _you_." Elwing replied.

"How can you help?"


	2. Chapter 2

The late evening sun was setting, a great ball of red flame, casting its last rays through the windows of the stables and reflecting them on the horses' water troughs. The screeching call of a Rhûn hawk echoed through the Dunëdänian forest, and, much to everyone's displeasure, in the distance, across the Sea of Rhun, it's voice carried by the western winds, a gmork howled.

Thranduil's head shot up at the sound, and he raced to the balcony, only to be greeted by the sounds of frightened horses in the stables, and the calm voices of elves trying to soothe them.

"It's all right, Thranduil," a voice called from within. "They're in the mountains, and it will take them at least three days to get here." Thranduil turned to face the elleth standing by a table made of white Rhûn oak.

"How can you be sure of that Elwing?" Thranduil asked the younger elf furiously. Elwing chuckled.

"The gmorks have only caught us off-guard once, and now we always expect them. And because of that," Elwing walked over to a trunk, opened it, and pulled out several scrolls, unrolled one and placed it on the table. "we have now made several plans that can aid us in defeating them when they attack." Thranduil stared at the battle plan, trying to decipher the numerous lines and arrows. He opened his mouth to speak, and then quickly closed it.

"It's confusing, I know. But the one we need is," Elwing grabbed a couple scrolls, peered inside them as one would look through a spy glass, and laid them back on the table. She then walked over to the trunk and did the same to several more scrolls, until, "Here it is!" Elwing brought over a rather large scroll, pulled it open and set it on the table. This plan didn't have as many lines and arrows, but it was very detailed.

"This plan is one we use most often. Soon I'm going to ask my scribe to remake this plan." She said, running the frayed edge between her fingertips. "This plan is set at The Palace of Vanya Sulie. It was a mighty set of towers, standing tall and proud, and it held strong through two hundred years of foul weather and attacks from the enemy. Half of the south tower is ruin, but the other half and the north towers are still intact. Several pathways connect them, and though some parts have missing, they haven't fallen yet. Some of the sweetest, and strongest winds in Rhûn blow there, and it is said that the voices of loved ones can be heard at the first hours of dawn and the last hours of dusk." Elwing traced one of the arrows on the plan, when Thranduil asked a question that he had been meaning to ask since he first met Elwing.

"How old are you, and tell the truth," Elwing sighed, and looked at Thranduil. A mist had covered her eyes, giving them a grey glint, but still allowing their rich, deep color to shine through, blue with hints of purple. She quickly looked away, and, motioning for Thranduil to follow her, walked to the balcony, grasping the rail as if she were losing strength. Thranduil offered his hand for her to hold, but she gently pushed it away.

"I am fine. Being reminded of how old I truly am, it, it shocks me. I have been through wars that no Elf could live through, yet I lived. I have been tortured countless times, and in such ways that even a gmork wouldn't have survived, yet I lived. I have been killed," Elwing turned to Thranduil. "I have been killed a hundred times over, and yet I live." Thranduil looked at the elleth, in shock. She had been, tortured, _killed_, and yet she was standing there, talking to him, looking as alive as anyone. And she still hadn't answered his question.

"How old are you?" Thranduil asked again. Elwing walked up to him, till she was a foot away from him.

"I'm as old as you are."


	3. Chapter 3

The hall was dark, save for a few meager lamps, whose feeble light glinted off the fine crystal dinnerware. The air was filled with the scent of roasted meat, one cooked without herbs or spices. A man sat alone at the head of the table, the light shined on his scarred bald head. On the plate in front of him, was a ribcage, a human-sized ribcage.

Tiden slowly chewed the last piece of meat, savoring the natural flavors, the leanness. It wasn't often he got to enjoy Elf-meat, and Elf-meat is a delicacy among his people. Then he took a drink from his goblet, swishing the Elf-blood over his tongue. He chuckled, as he remembered the elf's final moments…

* * *

"Sir, please don't kill me! Please! I'm begging you! Please!" The elf was on his knees; he arms tightly bound behind his back. He was staring at Tiden, his blue eyes wide, tears streaming down his cheeks. His hazel-brown hair was slightly tangled. He was breathing through short raggedy breaths. He struggled against his bonds as Tiden walked up to him.

"Shhhh. Shhhh." Tiden quieted the elf and wiped away the tears with his finger. "I will release you, but only if you tell me where your king is." The elf looked confused.

"King?" he asked. Tiden nodded. "We have no king." the elf replied. Tiden pulled a jagged-edged dagger from his belt.

"He's in Dunëdän." the elf said quickly, his eyes filled with fear. "Our king is in Dunëdän. He traveled there with a messenger from Lady Elwing."

"King Thranduil?" Tiden asked. The elf nodded quickly. Tiden smiled. He motioned to one of his guards.

"Release him," The elf smiled, relived, and he was still smiling when the guard's sword plunged into his back.

* * *

The door swung open with a bang, and one of Tiden's guards walked in.

"My lord, our men are preparing to attack Dunëdän. They will start traveling at night-fall." The guard said. "Good" Tiden replied, to busy savoring the taste of Elf-blood on his tongue to think properly.

"How was your dinner, sir?" The guard asked.

"Superb. It isn't often we capture an elf from Mirkwood, and for it to be Prince Legolas makes it even better." The guard got a shocked look on his face.

"It wasn't actually Legolas, sir," he said slowly, mumbling.

"What?" Tiden asked. "The Elf that you dined upon, it wasn't the Elf-Prince," the guard said again. Tiden picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth, sighing. He stood up and walked over to the guard.

"Well, you'll just have to find him for me then, hm? I know how much Thranduil cares about his son. Once he learns that his son has been captured and that I plan to feast on his flesh, he will come to save him and walk straight into my trap. King for dinner and Prince for dessert. I couldn't have planned it better." Tiden walked back to the head of the table, pick up his wine goblet and pitcher, which was filled with Elf-blood, and walked toward the door to the throne room.

"What of Lady Elwing sire?" The guard asked. Tiden turned his head to look at him.

"Leave her to me. And, just in case, pull out my branding irons. I might need them."

* * *

The sun was setting behind the trees. The ravens crowed their final song. A breeze flew through the palace window and whipped through the prince's golden hair, flipping it over his shoulder.

Legolas sighed impatiently. It had been a week since Thranduil had left for Dunëdän, and already things had turned for worse. Galdor had left to bring information to Lady Galadriel, but was captured by an unknown creature, and he hadn't returned. Even worse, Legolas had heard rumor that a Lord Tiden wanted to kill his father and take Mirkwood for himself.

In the stables, Legolas saddled and bridled his horse, Locien, not with the tack of a prince, but with the tack of a messenger.

He heard that Tiden wanted to kill him too.

As the sun's last rays disappeared into the nightly abyss, Legolas, son of Thranduil, was racing on his horse past the boundaries of Mirkwood, racing to Dunëdän to help his father.

* * *

"Tonight, we travel to Dunëdän, the cursed Elf-city, and raze it to the ground!" Cheers rose from the crowd of over five hundred gmorks as Tiden shouted words of encouragement. Tiden turned to the general standing beside him.

"There are three elves I want you to save for me. You already know of one, and the other is from Mirkwood. You won't be able to miss him. A crown of wood, blonde hair, and he'll have a kingly air about him. And if it helps his name is Thranduil," Tiden turned to leave the balcony.

"Sir, you said there were three, and you have named only two." Tiden turned to look at him.

"The third is Legolas Greenleaf, his son. And I want all three of them in my dungeons when this is done, and I want them alive and unscathed." Tiden turned again and leaving his palace led his troops on towards Dunëdän.

Thranduil lay is his bed, awake. He could have sworn that he heard gmorks howling. He presumed it was just the wind, and drifted off to sleep, which, unbeknownst to him, wouldn't last long.


	4. Chapter 4

A cool breeze fluttered through the curtains, flowing across the room to kiss Thranduil on the cheek, causing him to shudder. His deep, even breathing filled the room, and even the wind blew in time to it. Elwing smiled. Thranduil was just as handsome as his son, if not more. She gazed at him, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath, his flaxen hair resting, untangled, on his shoulders. Elwing walked over to the bed with silent steps, and with a feather-light touch kissed Thranduil on the forehead. He quietly stirred, but didn't wake. A small smile formed on Elwing's lips as she walked out to the balcony, and thus the vision began.

_Soft light. The woods were filled with a soft light. Greenish it was, and for a second Thranduil thought he was back home in Mirkwood. The trees with their gnarled trunks were twice the size of those around his palace. Their canopies were so thick that they blocked out any possible light, and so there was no undergrowth on the forest floor. The ground was soft enough to show even the footprints of an Elf, yet there was no sign that he was even there. Then he saw hoof prints. Hoof prints of a horse shod with Elvish shoes. Thranduil followed them, feeling that he was destined to find their maker. He came to a clearing, where the hoof prints turned to bare foot prints, so lightly imprinted that Thranduil barely noticed them. He could tell by the soft features that the prints were those of an elleth. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw movement. He looked up to see Elwing standing before him, her white evening dress rippling by the means of an unknown breeze. She looked younger than when he last saw her. She smiled._

_ "Thranduil" Elwing's voice was heard, as clearly as if she had said his name aloud, yet Thranduil didn't see her lips form the words. "Don't speak. It will shatter the vision. I will tell you where you are in good time. But for now I will answer a question that you have been begging to know the answer too. My age." Thranduil perked up at the words. _

_ "Let's start with my creation. The Valar around the time when you were born created me. They created me simply to see if they could create one of their own, and to me they gave powers, simple ones to start with. Galadriel gave to me some of her blood to be my blood, so by the many laws of ancestry we are sisters, of the same blood. She also gave me the power to see the past." Elwing sighed, and looking at Thranduil, continued._

_ "A thousand years after my creation, the Valar realized that my powers were growing too strong. I could control the weather, and several times it snowed over Valinor. I could look so deep into the present that I discovered some of the Valar's darkest secrets. I could take someone's life with my bare hand." Elwing looked at her hand, clenching it into a fist, and then releasing it._

_"And so the Valar hid me. They hid me in Middle-Earth, in a place no one else knew of, deep beneath the mountains, the rivers, the plains. Then they forgot where I was, and then they forgot about me, that I even existed. Two thousand years later, in the mountain of Erebor, home of Thror, the dwarves were mining in the long underground caverns, where one of them found something. Not a rock or stone, but a being, of flesh and blood. They brought this being before the king, and upon realizing it was an Elf, they made the treacherous journey to Lothlorien, to Lady Galadriel. It was she who revived me, and brought me back. When I was well enough, I went to the wilds of Rhûn, and built Dunëdän, which at the time wasn't meant to be a safe haven for lost travelers, and Elves who have been exiled and who were lost. But that was what it became. The travelers of the races of Men, and Dwarves came and went, however the Elves wouldn't leave. They stayed and built Dunëdän beside me, making it the grand place it is today. Then the wars started. I watched as the enemy in battle slaughtered the Elves that I had given a home, Elves that I had looked upon as my children, mercilessly. But more Elves came. From all different places - Rivendell, Lothlorien, and even a few from Mirkwood. And it is because of them that we stand here today, undefeated…for now." Elwing finished, softly gazing at Thranduil._

_ "Now for where we are. We are standing in the forests of Dunëdän, near the Sea of Rhun. The only difference is that the forest floor is covered with tracks. However, since we are in a vision, the ground is clear." Elwing said, gesturing to the ground, her eyes following her hand. Then Elwing met Thranduil's overpowering gaze, and while she felt weakened, Thranduil felt an overwhelming desire to shield her and protect her from evils that he never even knew existed. Elwing walked up to him, and he took her hand in his, holding it up to his cheek. He kissed her palm, and met her gaze, seeing that her eyes weren't filled with the grey mist, but showed their true color, rich and deep. Then, their lips met. Their kisses were feather-light to the touch, and how long they stood there together, neither Elwing nor Thranduil could remember, only knowing that they never wanted this moment to end. Then Thranduil realized that he heard a voice, shouting something. A name. _His_ name._

_ "Thranduil!" it called, as if attempting to pull him from the moment of bliss he was in. He tried to ignore it, but the voice grew louder, and louder, and louder still, until he realized it was coming from Elwing._

_ "THRANDUIL!"_

Thranduil's eyes shot open, and he sat up, realizing he was covered in a cold sweat. His breaths came in jagged gasps, while he felt as if he had been struck in the head with the pommel of a sword. He shakily stood up, and looked for his clothes, realizing that he had slept in them in case of an attack. He walked over the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, not yet grasping the fact that he was being watched.

* * *

He stood in the corner, as still as a statue, watching the elf the whole time. He saw him awaken, covered in sweat, breathing hard. He could hear his blood racing, his heart beating fast, and his mouth watered at the sound. He watched the elf rise from the bed, and walk over to the balcony, inhaling the cool night air. The elf sighed, and walked back into the room, turning to close the doors to the balcony. An error that he would never be able to repeal.

Quick and quiet as a shadow, he unsheathed his dagger, and sneaked up behind the elf. He pressed the dagger against his throat under his chin, and quickly covered his mouth with his free hand so he couldn't scream. He then forced the struggling elf against the wall, threatening him by gently nicking his neck with the dagger, causing several droplets of blood to trickle out. He resisted the urge to lick them off his neck. He met the elf's gaze, his deep blue eyes showing more shock than fear.

"Well Thranduil", he said, breathing in the elf's woodland scent. "I was hoping to meet you on the battlefield, but I simply couldn't wait any longer." Noticing the flicker of fear in Thranduil's eyes, Tiden began laughing a sinister laugh, not caring who heard him, while pressing the struggling elf back against the wall.


	5. Chapter 5

Locien was panting hard. Not being one of the Mereas, or a horse of Dunëdänian breeding, he wasn't used to running lengthy distances at a good pace. Legolas was muttering words of encouragement when he heard hoof beats behind them. Two riders, both on black steeds, galloped beside him, and all together they slowed to a stop. Legolas recognized one of the Elves immediately. With his short hair, he wasn't easy to miss.

"Maeglin, vedui'," Legolas greeted him.

"Legolas" Maeglin said quickly, "We saw you racing as if Lord Tiden himself was after you. What's wrong?" Maeglin asked, worry evident in his voice.

"I need to help my father, Lord Tiden wishes to kill him." Legolas replied, frustrated that he was losing time.

"Your horse won't be able to finish the journey. Take Fingolfin, he will carry you the rest of the way." Maeglin said, dismounting the black stallion he was riding, while Legolas dismounted Locien. Legolas then mounted Fingolfin, but before he could ride off, Maeglin caught his arm to the warrior grasp, and they exchanged nods. Legolas cued Fingolfin into the gallop, and the great horse sped off, easily doubling the speed in which Locien had been galloping previously. Legolas gasped in awe as he could feel the stallion's thick muscles working even through the saddle. He voiced a word of encouragement, and Fingolfin sped on.

* * *

In the five hundred years of his life so far, Tiden had never come upon an Elf that struggled so much. He grabbed Thranduil by the throat, and practically threw him on the bed, using his right leg to pin down Thranduil's legs so he couldn't move or knee him in the gut. Tiden breathed deep to catch his breath, noting Thranduil was still struggling. He sighed.

"Why do you Elves have to struggle so much," Tiden asked. Thranduil would have answered, but Tiden pushed his head back with his left hand as to free his right, and pushed his forearm into Thranduil's neck, and lightly leaned on his arm, as to partially cut off his air supply. Tiden chuckled as Thranduil started to violently struggle beneath him, gasping for air. He noticed his sword on the dresser next to the bed.

"You must be regretting not having that sword strapped around your waist at this moment." Tiden chuckled, "What a pity." Thranduil's eyes were full of hatred, and he was glaring daggers at Tiden, despite the fact that he could barely breathe. Thranduil tried to push Tiden's forearm off his neck. Tiden took his dagger and slit the veins on Thranduil's right wrist, causing his blood to trickle in a constant stream down his arm. Tiden replaced the dagger in its sheath, and grabbing Thranduil's wrist, proceeded to lick the blood off his arm. Thranduil watched in horror as Tiden then began sucking the blood right out of the slit on his wrist. He felt the pain, but didn't show it. He couldn't display weakness in front of his enemy. He tried to pull his arm away from Tiden's mouth, but Tiden tightened his grip, causing more blood to gush out of the wound.

"Would you rather I slit a vein in your neck," Tiden asked, his lips red with Thranduil's blood. Thranduil shook his head. Tiden licked his lips, and went back to sucking the blood from Thranduil's wrist. Using his left arm, Thranduil dug his nails into Tiden's forearm, and then with all his strength, pushed Tiden off of him, and kicked him in the gut, causing him to lose balance and stumble back. Thranduil leapt across the bed and reached for his sword, but just as he was unsheathing it, Tiden grabbed him by his hair, yanked him back, brought him down to a kneeling position, and wrapped his arm around his throat. Before he was aiming to torment, now he was aiming to kill.

Thranduil was seeing stars. He tried to pry Tiden's arm from his neck, but he was losing strength. He felt his heartbeat slowing…

Tiden felt Thranduil trying to pry his arm from his neck, so he merely tightened his grip. He felt Thranduil's body going limp when he felt a sharp prick on his neck. He turned his head to the left to see a blade, a short silver blade…and Legolas was holding it.

"Release him, or I'll cut your throat," Legolas said, slightly spinning the blade tip in a small circle on Tiden's neck, causing a droplet of blood to slither beneath his collar and out of sight. Tiden pulled his arm away from Thranduil's neck, causing the monarch to fall onto his back while trying to catch his breath.

"Prince Legolas, it is an honor to meet you at last." Tiden said, and then shifted his gaze, glaring at Thranduil. "I will only say this once Thranduil," Tiden spat. "This is not the last time we shall meet. Now, if you don't mind, I have, _other_ business to attend too. " When the last word escaped from his mouth, he broke through the doors to the balcony, leapt over the side, and disappeared from view.

* * *

"Ada!" Legolas exclaimed. Seeing his father in such a weakened state frightened him. He replaced his sword in its sheath, and knelt besides his father, helping him into a sitting position. Thranduil reached out and grabbed his son, bringing him into a tight embrace. He moved his right arm down his son's back when he felt a pain in his wrist. He held his arm up to see that it was still bleeding. And knowing that Tiden had sucked his own blood right from his wrist made his stomach turn with disgust.

"Thranduil!" A familiar voice echoed from the hall into the bedroom. Thranduil looked up to see Elwing leap through the door, dressed in full battle attire. She looked at the father-son embrace and sighed with what seemed to be relief, then walked across to the balcony doors, shoved them open, and walked out to the balcony, peered over the edge, and walked back into the room.

"The gmorks are gone. They arrived earlier than we thought. They never attack while there is light." The elleth sighed. She turned to Thranduil.

" I'm so sorry, Thranduil. I tried to come to your aid, but by the time I realized that Tiden had found a way to your room, his followers had started attacking the main gate, obviously trying to give their master more time to carry out his plan." Thranduil nodded in understand, finally catching his breath. They heard running footsteps in the hall. A guard briskly walked in.

"My lady" he began, bowing. "You are needed in the infirmary." Elwing nodded in his direction and he left. Thranduil stood up, his strength fully regained. Then the three elves left the now dismal bedchamber.

* * *

Legolas practically ran down the stairs, jumping over the large patches of blood and assorted body parts as a stag jumps over a fallen log. Meanwhile, Elwing and Thranduil took their time, both of them weary from their ordeals. Elwing battling vicious gmorks while knowing that Thranduil was in trouble, and Thranduil almost losing his life to an enemy that he never knew existed.

They came to a rather bloody spot on the stairway, which was several steps in length, and Thranduil stepped over part of it to a cleaner spot, then turned and offered Elwing his hand. She smiled, and gently pushed it away, before leaping over the bloody spot and landing several steps below it. Thranduil raised his eyebrows in amazement. Not meaning offense to her in any way, but she had more of a stockier build for an Elf. Her muscles didn't appear to be as lean, but she proved that she was just as lithe, especially when wearing all her battle armor. Thranduil blinked several times before he descended the stairs to the step above the one in which Elwing was standing. She smiled at him.

"You should see me mount a galloping horse sometime, during a battle with gmorks," She winked at him, and began to descend the stairs, when Thranduil put his hand on her left shoulder, stopping her. She gasped in surprise as he slid his hand down her arm, a river of goose bumps in its wake. He gently held her hand in his, and his eyes searched for hers, hoping they weren't misted over like they frequently were. When Elwing met his gaze, she didn't feel weakened, but strengthened. She could hold his gaze for a longer period of time, and not feel her heartbeat quicken, or her mind become sidetracked. Once again, without their knowing of it, their lips met. Before, their kisses were feather-light whispers similar to falling snow. But this was a kiss. A kiss that spoke your feelings for you, a kiss that stopped wars and started them, a kiss that could heal pasts and shield futures. Unfortunately, as soon as this moment began, it ended…with a scream coming from the infirmary.

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" Tiden's scream echoed throughout his halls. He had been _this close _to feasting on Thranduil's flesh, but that damned she-elf and all of her tricks. It was her who had planed for her men to attack with the Elements, it was her who had Thranduil wait inside his room, in the most confusing set of labyrinth stairs in the whole of Dunëdän, and it was most likely her who had Legolas race there at the last minute to save his father from a 'horrific' death. But she would be the one to suffer first, the most painful and horrific death of all. Branding, whipping, the drinking of blood, the ingesting of meat, the chomping of bones. All of these things would be in her very near future. He paced back and forth in his throne room, deciding when to begin, when he remembered. No, these horrific methods of torture wouldn't be in her very near future just yet. The baby was to be born soon. Tiden has always preferred the taste of young fresh meat.

* * *

The elf writhed and squirmed on the table, his mouth opened in a silent scream. Elwing held her hands over him, and within seconds he was covered in a golden glow. The power of this glow practically dripped off of the elf, and it rolled off of Elwing in waves. All of the elf's wounds healed themselves up, leaving only a small white scar. The golden glow passed to the other injured elves, healing each one in turn. At last in returned to Elwing, whose body radiated in golden light.

All the elves then went outside to the vast forests to heal the animals that were harmed in the small battle that took place. While there, Elwing and Thranduil slipped behind a colossal oak, and shared a passionate kiss (or two) before returning to help the others.


End file.
